


Holding Water in Your Hands

by TsaritsaElena



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsaritsaElena/pseuds/TsaritsaElena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve tries to make the memories last before Bucky ships off to war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Water in Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Holocenic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Holocenic/pseuds/Holocenic)'s prompt: _Angst, "Oh fuck, oh FUCK." (S/B)_
> 
> Originally posted to my Tumblr, cleaned up and posted here. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I don’t own any of these characters or copyrighted material, and I’m certainly not making any money or other material profit off of this fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

"You get your orders?” Steve dusted himself off, wiping at the trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth as he looked up at Bucky, who was dressed in his very finest army uniform.

“Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

“I should be going.” Steve blurted the first thing that came to mind, the first thing that _always_ came to mind when he thought about Bucky going off to war, all by himself, without Steve at his side.

Bucky didn’t say anything to that; it was an old argument and now probably wasn’t the time to get into it. Instead, he clapped Steve on the shoulder and steered him away from the alley, proclaiming they had to clean him up since Bucky had gotten them both dates to the Stark World Expo.

Back in Steve’s apartment, there wasn’t much to clean up since Bucky had scared away the bully before he could really get going. They didn’t say anything to each other as they went about their tasks, Bucky taking care of the few gravel marks on Steve’s coat while Steve wiped up the blood on his own face.

The air was fraught with tension so thick Steve could cut it with a knife, and he took his time washing up, even though he really didn’t need to. Eventually, he emerged, going into the bedroom and over to sit down next to Bucky on the bed in silence. They stayed still, gazing out the window at the neighbor’s laundry, flapping in the breeze as it hung on the line.

Steve felt hollow inside. What did you say when your best friend, your fella, had his number called by Uncle Sam? What _could_ you say? What could _Steve_ say, especially when he couldn’t go with Bucky? Since the age of eight, Steve couldn’t remember a time when they’d ever been apart, a time when Bucky _hadn’t_ been just a few blocks down the street. Already, it felt like the letter with Bucky’s orders was slowly burning a hole in his chest, leaving a dull, ever-present ache in its place, and Bucky hadn’t even left, yet. Steve didn’t know how he was going to cope once Bucky shipped out.

There were so many things Steve wanted to say. _I’m not leavin’ you alone... I’m gonna find a way to go over there...I—I’m gonna miss you...Don’t go...I miss you already...I love you..._ But what came out was a half-choked sob around the words, “ _God damn it!_ ” as he jerked his arm and raked a hand through his hair. “ _Jesus_ , Buck. I can’t—I don’t—.”

“Hey, hey,” Bucky shushed him, grabbing hold of Steve’s wrists until he stilled. Bucky brushed a lock of hair away from Steve’s forehead, letting his hand trail its way across Steve’s jaw as he leaned in for a kiss.

Steve kissed back hungrily, pressing hard and opening his mouth to taste more of Bucky. He pushed so hard that Bucky toppled onto the bed in surprise, but it just gave Steve the leverage he needed to slot his legs between Bucky’s, rubbing up against him as they continued to kiss, distantly registering Bucky’s wandering hands as they roamed their way over Steve’s body, finding their way down to cup his ass.

Steve held on for as long as his lungs could take it, wanting to remember ever inch of Bucky’s mouth, every ridge, every bump, and the hot, sweet slickness as they devoured each other. He broke off, gasping for breath as he frantically undid the buttons of Bucky’s shirt with shaking hands, mindful not to rip the army issued clothing while peeling it off of Bucky’s body.

“Your turn, Steve,” Bucky reminded him before tugging at the hem of Steve’s undershirt, pulling it up and over his head.

It didn’t distract Steve for long, and he returned to the task of pressing as many kisses as he could to Bucky’s skin, up and down the other man’s well-toned chest. _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , he thought with each one, though he didn’t dare say it out loud for fear his voice would crack if he tried.

Meanwhile, Bucky had been slowly working Steve’s pants free from his hips, tugging them down to his knees. He palmed Steve’s cock through his briefs, making Steve moan in appreciation.

Steve returned the favor, unzipping Bucky’s trousers and tugging down Bucky’s briefs with his teeth, freeing Bucky’s cock, which was already hard. Steve licked and sucked but he was distracted by Bucky’s fingers pressing up against his ass. He pulled off of Bucky, pleading, “ _Please, Buck_. _Please_ , I want you in me. I need to _feel you_ —”

Bucky shushed him again with a kiss, plundering Steve’s mouth, taking what he wanted; Bucky knew exactly want Steve wanted, what Steve _needed_ right now.

Bucky wrested control from him, flipping them over so that Steve lay beneath him. He tugged off Steve’s pants completely and then did the same with his own, retrieving the small jar of oil from the nightstand and slotting himself between Steve’s legs, spread out wide for him now.

A finger coated in oil pressed at Steve’s hole, pushing in slowly as Steve gasped. “More, _more_.”

He heard Bucky hum appreciatively, a warm, low rumbling sound, but then Bucky added another finger all the same, scissoring them inside Steve, back and forth, rhythmically. Steve whined this time, a sharp, keening sound as he pleaded, “ _Please_.” He felt a third finger enter him and finally he let out a stream of nonsense, “Oh please, Buck! More, I need more, want you in me so bad, I want to feel you, want to remember how you feel. Give me something to hold on to, Buck—”

Bucky pressed another kiss to his lips. “Only for you, Stevie. Always for you. It’s always _been_ you. Always gonna be you,” he whispered reverently, hitching Steve’s legs over his shoulders.

Sooner than Steve could ask for it, Bucky was inside Steve. “God, you feel so good,” Bucky moaned in a half whisper, slowly thrusting as Steve felt every sensation. Gradually, he began to pick up the pace, grunts accompanying the friction as he began to thrust hard, the way he knew Steve wanted it, the way Steve needed it if he was going to try to hold on to the memories as hard as he could.

“Harder, Buck, _harder!_ ”

Bucky obliged him, picking up to a nearly brutal pace until his hips snapped up into Steve while Steve thrust back up to meet him, pushing Bucky’s cock in to the hilt. He saw stars as Bucky hit the sweet spot inside of him, swearing, “ _Fuck_ ,” when he did. Steve moaned and he whined and he swore, “ _Fuck_ ,” loving every minute of it and desperately trying to hold onto the feeling, to hold onto the memory, even as it slipped through his fingers like water after each thrust.

Bucky tugged at Steve’s cock, pulling and twisting until Steve wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was moaning in pleasure about.

“Getting close, Stevie,” Bucky growled in warning, abandoning the rhythm he’d built up in favor of frantically thrusting and he kept on tugging at Steve’s cock and Steve felt the burn inside him and the pull from Bucky’s fingers and—

“Oh fuck, oh _FUCK_ ,” Steve swore as he came, spilling over into Bucky’s hand as Bucky kept going inside his ass, coming a minute later himself, with a keening sound and breathless murmurs of, “ _Stevie, oh Stevie_ ,” before he collapsed, pulling out as he lay there next to Steve, breathing hard.

They lay beside each other, catching their breaths, slowly coming down from the high. Dimly, Steve was aware when Bucky got up and when he returned with a damp washcloth to wipe them both down. Then Bucky climbed back into bed next to him, holding Steve close.

Steve kissed him again and then once more and with each one, it felt like his last. _Everything_ felt like his last with Bucky. He reached his hand up to Bucky’s face, feeling the ridges in his forehead, the fuzziness on his eyebrows. Steve closed his eyes, mapping out the dips and curves of Bucky’s cheekbones, the swirling patterns on his ears, the stubble along his strong jawline. He didn’t want Bucky to go, was trying desperately to hold on to everything he could, so that he could remember, even as it threatened to slip through his hands like water.

He kissed Bucky again, this time to quell the rising lump in his throat. “Love you, Buck.”

“Love you, too, Stevie.”

They stayed like that for some time, listening to the faint rush of the cars below and the ticking of the clock on the nightstand. Steve was drifting off when Bucky shook him lightly, sitting up.

“We gotta go, Stevie.”

“Go where?” he asked muzzily.

 Bucky didn’t answer for a long time. “Goin’ to the meet the girls at the fair,” he said finally. “It’s time.”

Steve froze and he hated how Bucky had said it because yeah, yeah it was time, wasn’t it?

_Fin_.


End file.
